


Center of Gravity

by Barkour



Category: Monster
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this small room, dim but tidy, the carpet worn but the walls newly papered, Nina showed him first to block, then to turn. Again. Again. It was easier now than it would have been just five years ago. He knew something of fighting now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Center of Gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meredyd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meredyd/gifts).



His feet were bare; the carpet rasped against his toes, his heels as he turned. Better than linoleum, Nina had said with her index finger up, her lips pursed: the professor, mid-lecture. He'd laughed—hadn't he dealt with enough head injuries to know the risks?—and kicked off his shoes. Old habits.

In this small room, dim but tidy, the carpet worn but the walls newly papered, Nina showed him first to block, then to turn. Again. Again. It was easier now than it would have been just five years ago. He knew something of fighting now.

Her hands were warm on his arm, warm and sure as she shook his elbow, demonstrating the twist of the joint in the context not of medicine, but defense: block, lift, turn. She said, "See? Like that," and turned, smiling, to him. "Try again. And stop hesitating. You'll never throw anyone if you won't touch them."

He hitched his sweatpants up, higher at the knee, and did his best not to think of the slope of her shoulders, the downturned set of her brow, her flexing toes. Her gaze was steady: evaluating. She'd sweat glinting in the small crook of her collarbone. Tenma felt, oddly, like a boy again, young and stumbling.

He threw his arm out—

She caught him like that: pinned his elbow, then locked her shoulder beneath his, a hard weight thumping square into the joint. She twisted, shifting her weight, and in that smooth half-second she tossed him, end over end. He fell, clumsy, with a startled shout. Thrice now she'd thrown him, but it still hurt. He made to sit up, then settled instead on his back.

"Ow," he said.

Nina dropped into a crouch before him. "I'm sorry," she said. "Are you all right?"

He smiled up at her, upside down. Her hair shimmered, a honey brown cloud parting as if to frame them. What little light came from the window struck her like a beam.

"I don't think I'm very good at this," he told her.

"You just need practice," she countered.

Tenma conceded. He rolled his pulled shoulder, wincing. "I need an aspirin."

"I've got some in my bag," she offered. But she didn't stand.

A soft sweeping across his cheek: her hair shivering with her breath. Very casual, Nina ducked her head. Her hair whispered across his lips; he wrinkled his nose at the threatening sneeze. The stillness between them hung, delicate, fragile like a wound in his chest.

She tucked long, shining strands behind her ear. Her wrist drawn back so the tendons there showed, her lip dry from the sun and pinched beneath her teeth, the left just slightly crooked— Shyness struck him like another blow. She was very young, he thought. But that wasn't true.

She'd a small scar on her brow, which showed not in light, but shadow. He thought of touching it, just a moment with his thumb, then his throat tightened and he looked away.

"Would you mind helping me up?" he said.

Nina smiled, her nose wrinkling. It was a quiet smile, like peace at the end of a long, cruel day. She tipped her head to one side, her hair spilling across her cheek. "Don't worry, Doctor Tenma," she said. "I've got you."

She gave him her hand.


End file.
